


Accord

by Wicked_Seraph



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Cape Cod 1985, Fix-It, Fluff, I just want them to be happy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 19:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16352864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Seraph/pseuds/Wicked_Seraph
Summary: Eiji’s warmth, Eiji’s kindness. He wanted desperately to curl up within it, to gulp it down greedily and allow himself to be filled with something other than venom.





	Accord

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bleed_Peroxide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleed_Peroxide/gifts).



The first thing Ash had noticed was Eiji’s scent — if he had to choose a word for it, he might have described it as “guileless”.

 

Ash had learned not to rely too heavily on words and appearances, both of which were so easily manipulated that they were little more than distractions. Balding and overweight, shrouded in expensive robes and a cigar that was mostly symbolic.  Lean and muscular with closely-cropped hair, a sweat-stained baseball jersey, and the filthiest nails he’d ever seen.  Obese and sallow-skinned, dressed in unremarkable beige suits, bland sunglasses, and a smile, lined with decaying teeth, that could never be mistaken as kind.

None of their respective physical attributes were unique. It would be easy enough to pluck some hapless stranger off the street, throw them in a suit, and pose them in front of a reminder of ill-gotten luxury. They could easily be juxtaposed into the scenery.

What made each of them stand out was their scent. Scent was unique, and the memory of each stirred a bone-deep revulsion that told him his hunches were correct if his eyes or ears doubted. 

Dino smelled only vaguely of cigars, the faint sweetness usually blotted out by  a sharp, overpowering Italian cologne that Ash refused to pronounce correctly. Dino wasn’t so gauche as to over-apply it, but something about his skin chemistry clashed with it, rendering what should have been a soothing, woodsy scent into something vile. Ash had remarked on it, once, and his clear disgust only seemed to encourage Dino. Ash had never once smelled anything human about him, even after tasting it.

He tries not to think about the baseball coach. He’s dead, along with any fondness Ash might have had for leather and antiseptic.

As is Marvin. Everything about Marvin was fucking filthy. Crumbling hotels that reeked of piss.  The cloying tang of latex invariably followed by copper. All of it shrouded in the nauseating fog of tobacco smoke, the smell clinging to Marvin’s yellowed fingernails and fetid breath.

Scent was the one thing you could not lie about. One’s lifestyle invariably affected their scent; Ash learned to rely on those things most people didn’t bother to hide, thinking a clever alibi wouldn’t immediately be betrayed by the smell of gunpowder.

When he met Eiji, Ash wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Wide-eyed and soft-spoken, Eiji seemed almost insultingly naive. There was no way someone his age could openly ask to inspect his gun for no other reason than genuine curiosity.  So he’d thought, yet the incredulous, shy smile on Eiji’s face said otherwise, hands reverently cradling the revolver as though handling something fragile.  It was a brutish weapon, modified with a carefully-obscured serial number; something about the way Eiji’s slender fingers held it reminded him of someone being given an unfamiliar instrument. Eiji remarked on its heaviness, thanking Ash quietly with a strange degree of sincerity before returning the revolver, grip facing Ash. 

That’s when he noticed Eiji’s scent — or rather, noticed what he didn’t smell. No colognes. No vices. No gunpowder, layers of grime, or blood under his fingernails. He smelled… normal.  He smelled exactly like the kind of sentimental person who would have brought his own toiletries from home , who had run out the door this morning with enough time to apply a small amount of pomade to his hair but not enough to properly style it. Clothes that were clean but not freshly laundered, and had definitely spent several hours warmed and wrinkled at the bottom of a suitcase. A brief hint of peppermint, no doubt from the small dish of candies Jenkins kept at the police station, diabetes be damned; he could just imagine the look on Eiji’s face, too polite to refuse. 

“You really are a kid, aren’t you?”

* * *

He wasn’t sure at what point he stopped questioning Eiji’s motives, or expecting the inevitable "compensation”.

One of the first lessons he’d learned was that nothing came without a price tag, and not having a cent to his name usually meant that everyone wanted their pound of flesh, his own itching at the invisible tags pinned to every surface. 

“Life is a series of transactions,” Dino had whispered to him, breath feverish against the hollow of his quivering throat. Ash hadn’t yet learned that tears stoked rather than extinguished Dino’s cruelty. “The intervals between them are merely a courtesy.”

Deft fingers wrapped around one’s guilt in exchange for slackening those wrapped around his own neck, a lolling silver tongue coaxing someone else to loosen theirs. Every minute spent pinned beneath a sweating, panting politician offered a rare chance to examine the most private corners of their lives, another dollar he could demand for their compliance. They may as well have handed him the handgun hidden in their night stand.

He couldn’t help but keep score; unsettled debts were deadly, and he’d gotten this far by making sure the balance never dipped into the red. 

The debt he owed Eiji, however, was impossible to calculate. Trying to figure out principal and interest left Ash feeling nauseous, wondering how much of his own flesh he would need as payment — or, it would have, had he not begun to suspect that, miraculously, Eiji seemed utterly disinterested in  Ash’s twisted form of economics.  Ash had provided plenty of opportunities that would have allowed for Eiji to collect, and yet none of them had provoked even acknowledgment. 

Eiji genuinely demanded nothing of him. Despite the terrifying feeling of elation, he couldn’t help but feel lost, adrift without an anchor. How could he ever repay someone who didn’t  _want_ to be repaid? If anything, Eiji seemed… grateful to him. The thought alone made him smile with self-loathing.

_Grateful for the company of a whore. Just how lonely are you, Eiji?_

Most people’s veneer cracked as their patience thinned, yet Eiji remained as stupidly, foolishly sincere as ever; someone who enjoyed watching Ash squirm under the weight of his own debts couldn’t make such a gentle expression. Against his better judgment, he couldn’t help but reply in kind when Eiji smiled at him, open and guileless. It scared him how much he  _wanted_ to smile back, all the while his heart beat timidly beneath his chest, raw and purulent.

Returning to Cape Cod had reopened old wounds. He hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but it was still difficult to swallow down bile as his father tore his pride to shreds in front of his horrified companions. The years had dimmed the luster of his father’s hair and etched their passage into his leathery skin, but the timbre of his voice hadn’t changed. 

_Don’t put up a fight. Make sure you ask for cash._

The faint smell of brine and fish wrapped around him, more like a noose than an embrace , and suddenly he was eight years old again, small fingers trembling and white-knuckled around his father’s handgun.

“Ash?”

Eiji’s voice, clear as a bell, snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked back at Ash anxiously, eyebrows knit with worry. 

Right. Eiji was supposed to be teaching him how to fish.

“I haven’t caught a thing,” Ash said, tugging at the pole and watching the lure bob gently against the water’s surface. “You sure you picked the right bait?”

“They know when you are upset with them. You have to be patient.”

"Is this how they teach you to fish back home?”

“Not everyone sings,” Eiji said, cheeks reddening slightly. “But the fish do not seem to mind if I do.”

His eyes were focused on the fish circling just beneath the water’s surface. Ash would have laughed at Eiji’s remark, but while his bucket remained empty, Eiji’s was filled with cod and haddock. Perhaps there was some merit to his approach.

Seeming to read his thoughts, Eiji glanced down at his bucket, grinning at him with a expression that was just shy of teasing. Ash reeled in his lure, blowing a raspberry at Eiji and relishing how supremely childish it felt. Eiji was the only person he knew would be properly insulted.

"I’ll let you finish catching dinner, then, Sings-to-Fishes. I’m gonna catch some z’s.” Eiji never broke eye contact with the water, flipping the bird half-heartedly before returning to his task.

Ash sighed, letting himself fall back and sprawl against the dock, toes still submerged beneath the water’s surface. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander among the cawing of gulls and the soft undulations of the waves.

A dangerous giddiness danced within him, almost suffocating in its intensity. It was so tempting to pretend that this moment was all that existed, that nothing lay beyond the dunes and seemingly endless expanse of sand. While he had no particular love for this place, he found himself grateful for these small opportunities to insulate himself against the outside world. New York was claustrophobic and restless; it was impossible to avoid a prying set of eyes, the stench of gunpowder or smog. Yet despite the grime that covered his memories of Cape Cod, he felt… safe here. He and Eiji sat on the rickety dock, hidden by the dunes; the geography shielded them such that they could only be observed if they wished to be. He wasn’t sure that he would ever want to, not with these few stolen moments.

Lying next to Eiji,  listening to him sing softly, his voice swallowed by the crashing of the ocean. The sun warming his skin, the gentle breeze, carrying the mingled fishy brine and the scent he’d come to recognize as Eiji’s. Out of sight from civilization,  it was easy to pretend that he wasn’t Ash Lynx, but Aslan, and that the man next to him didn’t have a target painted on his forehead just by being near him. He wasn’t sure what their relationship was, but he liked imagining that in another universe, he could have asked Eiji about these feelings, could have asked why he wanted to be near him, to touch him with an intensity that scared him. 

He didn’t feel…  _that way_ about Eiji. He didn’t. He  _couldn’t._ Eiji’s warmth, Eiji’s kindness. He wanted desperately to curl up within it, to gulp it down greedily and allow himself to be filled with something other than venom. 

_You’re nothing but a pretty little latrine. Now, drink up._

He didn’t want to hurt him; the idea of  _anyone_ hurting Eiji was enough to burn at him like acid. He didn’t want to Eiji to experience that same sense of shame and powerlessness, to have to bite back a scream every time someone touched him. 

He knew what other men were like, and he knew that it all started because they wanted to destroy something beautiful. Men couldn’t just look; they had to possess, dominate, defile,

touch.

What did it mean if he wanted to touch Eiji? What did it mean if Eiji wanted to touch him? Was it possible for them to do without poisoning whatever was forming between them?

He thought back to his brief stay in prison, at desperation driving him to close the distance between them and pass an urgent plea to the one person he felt he could trust. Guilt eating at him, Ash had done his best to ensure Eiji had ample opportunity to refuse, and that his acceptance wouldn’t be met with anything unpleasant. Eiji had flushed from the inherent intimacy of the gesture, but had not resisted or pulled back; he simply accepted, following Ash’s guidance despite very clearly not knowing where it lead. 

There was nothing romantically charged about it, he’d told himself, even while he found himself wishing for a do over, if only to make sure that Eiji’s first kiss was worth remembering fondly. No matter how he framed it, he’d stolen that from him.  He told himself that it was just that — wanting to give something back that he’d taken, even while he knew that the way his heart clenched imagining Eiji’s expression betrayed his motives.

_I’m sorry._

_“_ For what?”

Eiji’s response shook him violently from his thoughts. His stomach filled with dread as he realized that he’d spoken aloud. At some point Eiji had neatly packed up his fishing pole and laid down beside him, content to listen to the waves and gulls while Ash brooded, oblivious all the while. He gulped, realizing how close their faces were when he turned to meet Eiji’s gaze.

“Back at the prison…” he started uncertainly, hoping Eiji would fill in the gaps.  Eiji was silent, dark eyes filled with understanding and, to his surprise, amusement.  Ash sighed, his embarrassment tasting more bitter than he would have expected.

“… I took, er, stole… a kiss. Your first one. I wanted to apologize. I’m sure that’s not really how anyone wants to remember their first one,” he finished lamely, staring resolutely at a thin cloud floating serenely overhead. For a deranged moment he thought they resembled a pair of lips, chiding himself the second he imagined it.

Eiji chuckled, his quiet laughter thawing the ice that had been crystallizing in his chest, the way it always did when it came to messy things like stolen kisses and things he didn’t deserve to dream about. 

“And who says you stole it?”

Ash was stunned into silence, not sure if Eiji had understood what he’d said. He turned, studying Eiji’s face for the usual signs that he was hiding his confusion: furrowed brow or slightly pursed lips that made his young features more pronounced.

“You didn’t want a kiss. I did it anyways. You have one first kiss. I took that. I stole it,” Ash explained slowly, feeling as though he were turning over each word in his head, searching for cracks or blemishes, potential snags or misunderstandings. He hated speaking like this; it felt inherently insulting.

“It is true that I did not expect it,” Eiji said, lips curling into a lazy smile. “But that does not mean I disliked it. I don’t think of it as a bad thing.”

Eiji’s face colored brilliantly, biting his lip as he debated whether to give voice to the source of his sudden embarrassment; against his better judgment, Ash found himself transfixed, watching Eiji wet his lips nervously. 

“But you didn’t want me to,” Ash repeated, a putrid lump of guilt forming in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping desperately that they burned from the sun’s warmth rather than the veritable damn that threatened to surge forth. He heard the dock creak slightly as Eiji sat up, grateful for the distance this put between them. 

Eiji took a small breath, clearly measuring his words carefully — though, Ash noted, he seemed uncharacteristically shy, his voice shaky.

“If I did not want you to, then I would have thought of it… as a bad thing. I do not think of you kiss— of what happened… as a bad thing,” Eiji said quietly.

Too much. Relief, joy, fluttering exhilaration swelling in his chest — it’s too much, crushing his lungs. Happiness should not be physically painful, and yet he found himself sitting up, clutching as his chest and forcing himself to remember how to breathe. 

His first thought was how similar, yet different, this was from the panic he’d come to expect. Almost, but not quite, the same as the cold, sharp fingers that wrapped around his throat when he looked up at Dino, at Marvin, seeing nothing inside hollow eyes prying him apart. Monsters, feasting on him until he’s empty, licking their chops still slick with greed.

His breaths were short,  not wanting to drink in more than what he’s owed. Heat bubbled in the pit of his stomach, different from revulsion or despair; he was keenly aware of the inches that separated him and Eiji, dense with a giddy restlessness, warm tendrils coiling about him as if to beckon them closer. The eyes that meet his were unbearably kind, he thought, promising satiation: a fountain, a goblet running over.

“They’re supposed to be more than just ‘not bad,’’ Ash said, forcing himself to laugh and swallow the knot in his throat. “Not that I have any right to judge.” 

“Maybe…” Eiji’s eyes dart quickly towards Ash’s lips, too self-conscious to linger for more than a second. “Maybe we can try for a ‘good’ one.” 

At this Eiji’s gaze met his, far more steady than his voice. He licked his lips nervously, unable to stopper the small smile bleeding into his features. He felt himself drawn in towards Eiji, unable to answer but unable to stop the magnetic pull between them, the shrinking space between them charged with something unnameable. Ash’s heart raced; how strange it was to feel anticipation, to know what was coming and feel his entire being reach for it.

Ash had seen countless men smile when asking for a kiss ( _just_ _a small one, I won’t bite_ ), but none of them had chapped lips or flushed cheeks or wide brown eyes, close enough that Ash could count each lash that lined them. 

Ash felt two fingers tentatively press against his lips; he hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until they snapped open in surprise.

"Are you sure, Ash? We do not have to do this today. Or ever,” Eiji whispered, voice trembling, fingertips quivering against his mouth. Ash resisted the urge to poke his tongue out and tease him, settling for a smile.

“I’m sure,” he said, feeling Eiji’s fingers drop from his lips. Eiji leaned forward, gently cupping Ash’s face in his hands. Eiji closed the gap between them, pressing his lips gently against Ash’s.

He was reminded of a roller coaster on Coney Island he would ride with Griffin, his heart hammering beneath his ribs as the car rose towards the peak, creaking chains counting down the seconds while the horizon became steadily more ominous. There was always a moment of piercing inevitability, and then suddenly he was weightless; for a split second, it always felt as though he’d discovered something forbidden, something only birds knew.

Ascending towards some undefined peak, taking in all the details  — crashing waves, cawwing gulls, and the familiar smell of the fishing docks — all of them were reduced to a low hum in the background, his senses overwhelmed. 

Ordinarily he clung to one small detail on the environment to anchor himself to reality, lest he choke on his own revulsion or let his face give away his disgust. He tried not to focus on what was happening to him; the thin body being sucked and plucked at like a flower wasn’t his if he didn’t allow himself to feel what was being done to it.

Now, all he could think about were the soft lips pressed against his, content to follow the pace that Ash set. Eiji’s lips were dry and warm and filled with contradictions: eager yet restrained, unpracticed yet somehow meshing with his own perfectly. He felt fingers running idly through his hair or gently caressing his face, seemingly unable to decide where to touch. 

He imagined this was what Eiji must have felt like when he pole vaulted, suspended and untethered. He could feel Eiji smile even while they kissed, could hear his small, soft whimpers of pleasure. Eiji chased after him with a hunger that he could only describe as “patient”; every so often, he felt Eiji’s tongue run gently, painstakingly slow, along his lips, as though desperate to memorize them. He suspected that the surprised gasp it wrung out of him was precisely what Eiji had hoped for; Eiji’s mouth twisted into a smirk for only a moment, a low rumble in his chest that felt suspiciously like a chuckle. There was something different about this hunger, content to sup only on what Ash was willing to part with, refusing to lay claim to anything else. Ash felt himself sigh softly, the corners of his eyes stinging.

_Anything for you, Eiji._

He felt himself growing dizzy from lack of oxygen, and reluctantly pulled away, both of them gasping for air, cheeks and lips flushed.

“So,” Ash said, stalling for time. He felt unsettled, as though gravity had not yet caught up with him, oddly vulnerable as though he hadn’t done far worse with the same mouth. He had expected to feel guilty, as though he’d contaminated Eiji. He found himself feeling strangely buoyant instead; it was easy to pretend that this  _was_ his first kiss, hidden behind the sand dunes surrounded by sea foam and sand the color of melting snow. 

“I think that was a good one,” Eiji said quietly, veritably beaming.

Ash leaned his head against Eiji’s shoulder. Sunscreen. Shampoo. A slight sheen of sweat. And buried beneath that, a unmistakable fragrance he could never mistake as anyone else’s. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to drink it in the warmth that seemed to wrap around him when Eiji was near — greedily, selfishly, knowing that Eiji would let him.

“I think so, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> accord (n.): a perfume accord is a balanced blend of notes which lose their individual identity to create a completely new, unified odor impression.
> 
> I desperately wanted to write SOMETHING happy for these two, and something about "Cape Cod 1985" just seems rich with possibilities. Hell, the entire road trip between Cape Cod and Los Angeles is ripe for fix-it fic, in my opinion.
> 
> I feel I should explain my choices regarding Eiji's speech patterns. In the manga, Eiji tends to speak in broken/accented English, while in the anime there is nothing indicated about how he speaks. In my head, Eiji speaks English in the cautious, thoughtful way many of us do when using a language that isn't our first. I hope I conveyed this appropriately.
> 
> As always, Bleed_Peroxide is my ever-constant friend, beta, and companion in Banana Fish hell. It's not much, but I do hope you enjoy this small bit of fluff. 
> 
> This is purely self-indulgent, and as is my habit, I'm quite fussy so I'm sure I'll come back to this as I find things I want to tweak. Any and all mistakes are entirely my own.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Constructive critiques and kudos are always welcomed.


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